


A simple trade (and a toll)

by rhindon



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gondolin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhindon/pseuds/rhindon
Summary: How, exactly, did Ecthelion end up killing the Lord of Balrogs? And why was Glorfindel reincarnated so quickly?Two serious questions that somehow, inexplicably, spiraled.
Relationships: Ecthelion of the Fountain & Glorfindel, Ecthelion of the Fountain/Glorfindel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	A simple trade (and a toll)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like you all to know that this was a fun bit of experiment for me, but probably as far away from what actually happened as it can get! Besides, personally I do prefer a world where Ecthelion was a fucking badass.
> 
> 99% gen(Glorfindel doesn't even show), but can be read as slash.

The thing was, he knew how these things went.

 _Lord of the Fountains, hinder not the messenger of the Lord of the Waters,_ Tuor had said. Or rather, Ulmo had spoken through his voice. And Ecthelion had heard the words but seen the irony, in that they knew not the fates of the messengers of his king. Well, of course they guessed, and besides, Voronwë's return - Voronwë, for whom Elemmakil had a love deep enough to break the king's law, Voronwë who, being of Fingolfin's house, not even Turgon could punish too severely - was as sure a confirmation as any.

So yes, Ecthelion knew how these things went. Foresight was too often a curse, and recently he had noticed that fate had begun to press upon Gondolin more heavily than ever.

But in his dreams he had seen also a high mountaintop, a sparkling fall of hair, and heard the beating of a pair of wings, too late, always too late - and so decided.

It was almost unto the first bell when he went and knocked on Tuor's door. Lamps lit the hallways of the King's palace, and two particularly bright ones had been set on each side of the door-frame, he noted with slight satisfaction.

"Tuor," he said, and the poor boy stared wide-eyed at him. In hindsight, a coat over a nightgown might not have been the best way to visit an almost-stranger in the middle of the night, but well. Too late to turn back.

"Lord Ecthelion. What brings you here? Wait, come in, come in."

"Just Ecthelion, please," he said. "And there's no need. This shoudn't take long."

Tuor squinted at him, his manner belying his age, and although something in Ecthelion's heart ached to see the youth, Huor's son, so wary, still he pressed on.

"I need to ask a favor. Both of you and of Ulmo Vailimo."

"I'm at your service, lord, as I hope you already know," said Tuor, and then hurried to fix his words. "I mean, Ecthelion. Whatever favor you ask I'll be glad to grant, and indeed it would be my honor to do so. But as for the Lord Ulmo..."

"A chance to speak with Ulmo is precisely the favor I would have from you," said Ecthelion.

Breifly he wondered if there would be some sign, some obvious switch from the boy to the emissary of a Vala, but as before, he could not quite pinpoint when it happened. And yet, as he threw his sight afar, there was a hint of storm in the air, an added pressure to every breath he took, as if the wind itself could not be told apart from the waves, and he knew.

He considered his words for another second, and spoke.

"A favor I ask, nay, demand, O Lord of the Waters," he said quietly, firmly, with all the conviction he could muster and more. "For did I not admit your Man despite the wishes of my King, and said naught of the injustice that you should want this of me?"

"Injustice you say," said Tuor, in a voice deeper than his own. "Yet I know not what grievance you hold against Ulmo."

"Nearly half the sailors that drowned had been mine by blood and fealty sworn," he answered. "Brave men all, and sea-lovers, to my great sorrow."

There was pity in Tuor's blue eyes, but no remorse as he said: "What Ossë Sea-ruler does by the orders of Manwë, the Lord of the Waters may not control."

"Then why should you have controlled what the Lord of the Fountains does by the orders of Turgon his King? Nay, say not that I opened the Gates of my own accord, nor that which you have shown me were not threat enough!"

Even as the words left his mouth he felt the pale anger bubbling up his throat, and looking upon the boy's guileless face he almost faltered; said _never mind_ and walked away, but before he could, Tuor replied again.

"Suspicions you aim at Ulmo, and hasty ones at that. But as you have heard and believed him, the same courtesy I shall return to you, and hear your favor at the very least."

That was when he realized, perhaps, that even towards that moment he might have been pushed by fate, or at least by some shadow of that heavy hand. But at the same instant he knew that, for now at least, fate's desire and his were somehow aligned.

"You know I have a friend," he said, his voice sounding drained and half-full to his ears. He hesitated before adding, "one very dear to my heart."

Tuor nodded gravely.

"I would that he lived."

"I hear you," said Tuor, and pressed his lips together in a gesture most unlike himself. "But it is not a favor I may grant lightly. Nay, not even is it a favor I may grant at all."

"Then what of a trade?" he asked, strength returning as he picked up the second argument he had prepared for the night. "A simple exchange, if you will. A life for a life."

A trade - he had seen the deaths that lay ahead, both in the figurative and the literal sense, but none so clearly as that of his beloved friend. Not a particularly pretty one, it was, but neither was it gruesome beyond an extent; a fast and relatively painless one for sure. And he would face much, much worse if it meant...

"Alas, the matter is not so simple as you assume, oh lordly child!"

The rebuke in Tuor's voice immediately straightened his spine. He resisted the urge to scowl, but his words were stinted when he retorted.

"All matters of death is simple when left undisturbed."

"And yet his death has been touched by a higher power than I, and so shall yours be, should you choose to interfere," said Tuor.

"Let it be so! I care not," he said. "Name any price within my reach, and I will pay it to the fullest."

That pity in Tuor's eyes, it had not faded throughout their conversation, but now besides it glinted a cold, calculating light. Whether by good fortune or bad, Ecthelion had hit some sort of a mark. He waited, schooling his features, until Ulmo's voice spoke again.

"Your beloved's death may not be prevented," it said, and by its tone Ecthelion knew the words to be final. "But whatever comes after... Indeed I know him to be a brave and valiant soul, one that might find healing swiftly."

"Fair enough," said Ecthleion. "And what shall I do for you in return, Lord?"

A chill seemed to settle then, but mostly on the back of his hands. He flexed his fingers, unnerved, and waited for Tuor to open his mouth.

Whatever contemplation Ulmo was pondering did not take long.

"There is," he said, "a great evil that must be vanquished ere it takes too many a life, or so I deem."

And fool that he was, Ecthelion swore without a second thought.

"Then you have the King's Fountain as your sword."

Tuor blinked, and saw that Ecthelion's face had turned very white, and very resolute. An odd expression on a man who, by all means, looked as if he was sleepwalking. Tuor opened his mouth to ask whether he felt all right, and then realized his memory of what he'd been saying just now was suddenly unclear.

"Lord Ecthelion?" he ventured. "What's the matter?"

Ecthelion abruptly smiled.

"It's been resolved," he said, and added in far more gentle a voice than merited the circumstances, "go back to sleep, young one."

And Tuor did.

**Author's Note:**

> One thing I love about the Fall of Gondolin is how most of the lords' deaths are related to their own symbols. The King's Fountain, in particular, could have been a nickname for Ecthelion as well as a name for a fountain... Especially with that part where the fog afterwards is explained as having something to do with its death. Or not XD


End file.
